Stolen
by Miss Peg
Summary: A dangerous situation results in a kiss, but where will it lead? Jane/Lisbon


**Title:** Stolen

**Author:** RedFi

**Rating: **K+

**Characters: **Jane and Lisbon (with mention of La Roche)

**Summary: **A dangerous situation results in a kiss, but where will it lead?

**Prompt: **Ficathon - ROMANCE: Jane/Lisbon, "A lawful kiss is never worth a stolen one." Mentalist Prompt - In the still of the night.

**Notes: **My first ever Jane and Lisbon fic, to say I'm nervous would be an understatement. Another ficathon fic for Paint It Red (want to join? Just ask me about it!) and another prompt completed for Mentalist Prompt.

**Spoilers:** Season Three finale spoilers (kind of)!

Her heart thumped in her chest as the bomb rested uneasily against her stomach. Throughout her career there had been many times when Lisbon had been scared but very few where she had been petrified. The last thing she'd expected when she got up that morning was to end up in the middle of an explosive device.

Jane stood opposite her, his eyes wide with fear, a fear she'd seen more times on him than in her own reflection. He inched forwards, wary of the bomb between them, yet opting to comfort her in the only way he could. She glared at him, not because she was angry, she just couldn't make up her mind however else to be.

What was a person supposed to do in her position?

It was hardly common place and though she'd been trained in various elements of police work from hostage situations to shoot outs, no one had ever told her how to react to being the weapon.

Jane was talking and though she replied to his words, neither his nor her own processed. As if out of the blue he gripped her shoulders, maintaining a stance where his body stood a safe distance from her own and pushed his lips hard against hers. The act took her by surprise and as her body shifted closer, her lips reacted to the kiss and then her brain caught up. She stepped back, her eyes darting about her head.

'What the hell Jane?'

He shrugged his shoulders, his lips curled at the sides in some cheeky smirk that usually won her over. If only she could slap him hard across the face.

'I have a bomb strapped to my body and you want to play tonsil tennis?'

'I don't have any tonsils.'

'And that's relevant because?'

'I can't play tonsil tennis if I don't have tonsils, thus your question is redundant.'

'That is _so_ not the point, I could be dead right now because of you.'

They stared at each other for a brief moment, his eyes were turned down at the corners, something she hadn't seen from him since the very first day they met. Over the years he'd lost that look of devastation that could only be caused by intense loneliness or grief. The sight of it caused the tears she could feel building up to stop in the back of her throat. It hurt, physically, to look at him like that, in that moment. No amount of fear or devastation of her own would ever replace the dread she could see in Jane's eyes.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. She wasn't ready to have this conversation. She wasn't sure she ever would be.

First and foremost, she still had a bomb strapped to her and quite frankly, in that moment, that was all she could think about.

She would survive this, she just had to. But incase of the worst case scenario, she didn't want to start something she couldn't end. Especially not with the potentially devastating effect it could have on Patrick Jane.

xxx

'Lisbon, a word please?'

He stalked into her office uninvited, closing the door behind him as though he owned the place. Who was she kidding? As hard as she tried to say otherwise, he had her wrapped around his little finger at times. She grimaced and continued to stare down at her papers.

'I'm busy. Unless you're forgetting the case we had to solve tonight.'

'I haven't forgotten, but apparently you've forgotten La Roche's instructions that you must go straight home and recover.'

'It's not the first time I've faced death, Jane.'

'Maybe not, but it's the first time you've been that scared.'

'I wasn't scared,' she argued, unwilling to satisfy his desire to be all knowing.

'That's bull and you know it. I saw the look on your face, I know you Lisbon.'

'You don't know me,' she uttered stubbornly. 'You know details about my life and you know how I work; there's a difference.'

'Is there?'

How many times would she have to inform him of how busy she was before he would listen? She could repeat it and end up saying it four or five times. She wasn't in the mood for Jane's games, not tonight, especially not tonight. Whatever he thought he knew, he was wrong, even if really he was right. She wouldn't admit it. He could have gotten her killed. Why did he never listen to her?

'I need you to leave now,' she whispered, standing up from behind her desk and filing through the compartments of her filing cabinet. She focused hard, but her attention was split. He'd edged closer, his breath lingered behind her, resting almost painfully against her neck. Every boyfriend she'd ever had had at some point breathed on her neck before she turned into their embrace. What made the moment any different with Jane? Aside from the fact they weren't together. She held onto the cabinet, praying that she could stay strong whilst her knees weakened below. His voice filled her left ear.

'And I need _you_.'

His fingers gripped her shoulders lightly, resting against the material of her shirt. A bolt of electricity travelled down her arms, back up and span through her body. She pushed backwards, slammed the cabinet door closed before spinning around and glaring at him. He didn't falter. His eyes stayed fixed on her own like a child staring at a popsicle.

'I don't need you,' she muttered, yet her brain and heart fought agonisingly beneath her skin.

'I know our kiss meant more than that Lisbon.'

'We work together, there are rules.'

'Screw the rules.'

Typical Jane. She wanted to slap him hard across the face for putting her in that position, for making the battle she's already managed to win become significantly harder to stop resurfacing.

'You don't get it, do you? You can screw around and make mistakes as much as you like. I've cleaned up your mess too frequently. I don't have the same privilege. No one is here to wave a magic wand and say it's okay, no real harm done when _I_ screw up.'

'You're making it more complicated than it needs to be.'

'No Jane,' she stated assertively. 'You're forgetting that it _is_ complicated.'

'But you want this too?'

'No, I don't,' she looked away.

'You're lying.'

'No, I'm not.'

'I don't believe you.'

As if the situation hadn't already reached the worst possible point, she leant forwards and pressed her lips softly against his. Before he could react she slipped herself away again, sitting back down behind her desk.

'What was that?'

'Proof that you don't mean that much to me.'

'A peck on the lips?'

She shook her head, frustrated by his impertinent behaviour. How could he keep conversations going for so long after they should be over? She closed her eyes and tried to escape the bubbles floating around inside her chest. How could a plan so simple fail so epically?

'I have work to do,' she mumbled, refocusing her attention on the papers in front of her.

'Okay,' he replied, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. She let out the breath she'd been holding and ran a hand through her hair. How could one man, who made her job that more difficult, have such an effect?

xxx

She worked well into the late evening, beyond that of even La Roche who gave her a stern warning to go home and relax. She couldn't do that. Too many things were happening for her to shut down and she felt safest with Jane in earshot. She caught him lying down on the sofa when she'd gone to make a drink and hadn't had any word to the contrary that he was still there.

'Jane,' she called across the bullpen once she'd finally packed up her things and was headed out of the door. He didn't stir. She walked across the room and stood beside his head, watching the gentle lull of his sleeping form. The polar opposite of his child-like manner earlier in the evening.

'Lisbon,' he smiled, opening his eyes and sitting up. She rolled hers in response as he put that dazzling smile on his face.

'I'm leaving for the night,' she informed him before walking back out towards the hallway.

She caught a glance of him stand up and stretch his back through the glass before she reached the lift. As she stood there waiting for the shaft to arrive, she couldn't get that last image of Jane out of her mind. Everything she'd ever wanted in life was her career. Nothing else mattered. At least not until Jane had walked into her life.

Then everything changed.

Not only did she have a reason, beyond her job, to get up in the morning, but she also had someone in her life that made her laugh. She hadn't laughed so much in a long time, even if he did drive her insane half the time. He was like the little brother nobody wanted, except she didn't want him to be her little brother. The ping of the lift signalled its arrival but before the doors could open she'd marched back towards the bullpen.

'Back so soon?' Jane smirked as he stood in almost the exact same position he'd been in moments earlier.

That smug look on his face and his pathetic excuse for sarcasm made her want to thump him right in the centre of his nose. Instead she slid her fingers through the tendrils of his hair and pulled his lips towards hers. She kissed him passionately, slow but with urgency and when she pulled away her throat felt dry and useless.

'What was that?'

'A kiss.'

'But why? You said…'

'I know what I said.'

'Well?'

'No kiss with you will ever mean nothing.'


End file.
